


Devil In Me

by dskam



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Multi, Romeo and Juliet References, very very loose romeo and juliet references lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-04 05:28:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dskam/pseuds/dskam
Summary: Isak was born into a gang and he knew that he would likely die in one. He knew that it could be dangerous. That lives could be lost. That it could be tough. However, he didn't know that the entrance of the Montagues was about to make it a hell of a lot tougher.[Title is from a song by Halsey of the same name. 15/10/17 Changed from Bad at Love to Devil In Me]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is obviously a new fic, and my first Skam one. I'm not sure whether I'll continue it - that depends on the response the first chapter gets (if any lol). If I do carry it on, I promise that the chapters will be longer that this, too, and that there will be a heck of a lot of rare pairs. Also, I'll have to update the tags and rating if I do end up continuing.
> 
> Let me know if you want more!

_Terje wasn't particularly bothered when his father died. They'd never had a particularly strong relationship before his death, never really had a connection. Because his father was 41 when he was born, Terje had concluded that his birth was just the result of a gang leader needing an heir. The business has been in the family for generations and it didn't seem his father wanted the tradition to end, probably much to the chagrin of his Second who would likely have to step up in case of no heir. Terje’s heir was born when Terje himself was 25._

 

_Despite his and his father’s distant relationship, they didn't hate each other, nor did he beat him or anything like that. And given the size of their mansion, they could easily avoid each other until Terje moved out at the age of 18. After that, they only really saw each other at work._

 

_So, when his father died Terje couldn't really say he mourned, or felt the need to; it was more of an employer-employee relationship than a father-son one. So much so, Terje was fully prepared and trained to take the mantle when the time came – even if it was earlier than anticipated. Though, after a life of drinking, smoking, and violence, 63 isn't a bad age to die._

 

_Terje was 22 when he inherited the Capulet gang. He was 46 when he died._

 

* * *

 

 

It had been a long day. Long enough to make Isak so tired that he wouldn't even need to take his sleeping pills tonight. He sighed as a spot of blood on the cuff of his formerly pristine shirt caught his eye. He really needs to remember to roll his sleeves up when he's working. Oh well, it's not like he can't afford new ones.

 

Isak slumps down on his couch and lets out a groan loud enough to echo around his empty penthouse. His bedroom is only metres away but his couch is extremely soft and extremely welcoming to his tired, aching body. Though, now he thinks about it, a hot shower sounds even more welcoming. Plus, his shirt isn't the only thing encrusted with blood. Isak slowly lifts his hands to his face and huffs at the sight of his busted knuckles, clenching and unclenching his hand thoughtfully – _definitely should take a shower._

 

Some minutes later he's thrown his shirt into the waste bin and is in the shower, hands against the wall, scalding water beating against his back. His shower takes all of 17 minutes, the time it takes for the water running down the drain to go from red to clear. Isak shakily climbs out of the shower – nearly tripping on his discarded trousers – and glances at his phone which is resting on the marble top that surrounds the sink. It’s just gone 9:30pm and he's already considering going to sleep. His body aches and he's planning on going to bed at 9:30pm. Jesus. Is he 23 or 83?

 

More alarming than that is the fact that his lockscreen is showing that he has three missed calls. From Sana. Isak almost, almost stomps his foot in frustration like a toddler. Then he almost tries to strangle himself with the towel he's using to dry himself, that's how much he doesn't want to deal with whatever shit this is. He'd told Sana that he wanted to be left alone until at least 9am tomorrow, and she was more than capable of holding the fort until then so what could possibly be the problem? Knowing her, and if it was urgent enough to warrant three missed calls, she'd be banging on his door in 3... 2... 1...

 

Isak wraps a towel around his waist and makes his way to his front door. The fact that he was right kind of made him feel a bit better about being interrupted right before going to sleep.

 

He swings the door open and quickly moves aside to let Sana walk past before she can shove him. That, or just walk over him.

 

“Hello Sana. You know I said 9 tomorrow morning, not 9 tonight, right?” Isak says, not bothering to look at her until he shuts the door.

 

Sana pauses and looks at him how she usually does: like he's just said something stupid. “Obviously. Something's come up.” She glances at his chest momentarily before strutting past him. “And it's not just your nipples. Seriously, either put a shirt on or turn the heat up in here.”

 

She makes her way casually yet confidently to the couch and takes a seat. Her all-black outfit stands out in stark contrast against his white sofa, but oddly she still fits in with the monochromatic theme of the place. Understandable considering she chose most of the furniture after proclaiming Isak had no taste.

 

Isak rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who interrupted my shower, don’t blame me. Anyway, it's my apartment, I can do what I want. And speaking of my apartment, why are you in it?” He walks into his bedroom, leaving the door open so they can still hear each other.

 

“I'm in it because word on the street is that there's a new gang in town.” She says, boredom and mockery clinging to her words. Isak frowns as he pulls on some sweatpants (but not a shirt – he's petty like that).

 

“A new gang?” He leaves his room and sits next to Sana on the couch, pulling a brown cushion to his chest, as she pulls out a manila file – seemingly from nowhere – and tosses it on to his lap. Isak picks it up and reaches over to place it on his glass coffee table in front of the sofa.

 

“You're supposed to read it.” The ‘dumbass’ implied at the end was almost audible.

 

“Listen. Whoever this ‘new gang’ is can wait until tomorrow. I'll read the file when I wake up.” If I ever get to sleep, he thinks bitterly.

 

Sana stands up, face as neutral as always. “Whatever. The file may be able to wait until tomorrow but you never know if a gang will.”

 

Isak stands too, and together they walk to the door. “Well,” he opens the door and leans on it. “If said gang does break into my home at 10 at night, at least I'll be asleep and blissfully unaware when I'm murdered in my very comfortable king sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets.”

 

The look Sana gives him implies that she wouldn't care even if he did get gallons of his own blood spilled on his expensive white linen. She doesn't bother speaking though, and promptly turns on her heel to walk away. At least Isak got the last word for once.

 

“Tomorrow.” She calls back without turning around.

 

It's times like this when Isak is almost certain that Sana is psychic.

 

* * *

 

  
When Isak awoke to banging sounds the next morning it took a moment for him to think who it could be, considering hardly anyone is allowed up to his apartment.

 

He can’t help but recall last night, can't help but reach for his handgun that's nestled inside his bedside table. All remnants of sleep were gone by now. The parting words he and Sana exchanged may have been said with humour but his life – his job – was no joke.

 

Keeping low he approaches the door, gun raised. He creeps closer and closer, his bare feet not making a sound on the hardwood flooring. Any rustle of his sweatpants was drowned out by the pounding on the door.

 

He's only a few metres away when he hears a muffled, “I bet he's still asleep.”, from the other side of the door.

 

Isak swears under his breath, in relief more than anything else, and rubs a hand over a the bristles on his head before tucking the gun away, attaching it to the underside of one of the tables by the door.

 

The doorknob cools his clammy hand as he opens the door to three familiar faces.

 

“Hey Boss!” Magnus yells, smile huge and bright on his face. “We thought you were still asleep.”

 

“I was.” Isak mutters, gesturing with his head to invite them in. He doesn’t bother joining them on the couches, instead making a beeline for the coffee machine in the kitchen. He can't do anything before his first coffee – not even wince when Magnus did a running jump on to one of the armchairs. Or spare a laugh when Jonas scolds him, saying he's going to crease his suit.

 

When he re-enters the living room, coffee in hand, Mahdi has the manila folder from last night in his hand. “Is this from Sana? She told us about this last night.”

 

Isak hisses as the boiling hot coffee hits his tongue, then nods. “She told me last night as well. Told her I'd read it in the morning.” He gestures for Mahdi to hand over the folder.

 

“Well,” Mahdi shrugs as he passes it to Jonas to give to Isak. “It's morning.”

 

Jonas flips open the cover, dodging Isak’s hand when he reaches for it. “The Montagues?” He frowns.

 

Isak finally snatches the folder from Jonnas. “You might be my Second but I won't hesitate to kill you, I hope you know that.”

 

Jonas snorts and stands up, then walks to the kitchen. Probably to make himself and the others coffees which Isak never offered – he was a bad host, so sue him. “You'd never get anything done without me.”

 

Isak glares at his retreating back but doesn't bother denying it. Instead, he re-opens the file and stares down at the first page. As Jonas had said, ‘The Montagues’ was typed carefully onto the centre in capital letters. The typing was like that of an old typewriter, and just above it was a stamp in blood red ink that says, “TOP SECRET”.

 

Flipping to the second page, Isak was met with a profile, of sorts. He scans it then flips to the third page, then the fourth, then the fifth. He frowns flipping back to the second.

 

Even Bech Næsheim. Apparently the leader of this gang. Next to his name was a slightly blurry photograph of him in profile. He had blonde hair, styled into a high quiff and sunglasses which were perched halfway down his nose. A cigarette was hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He was _hot._

 

The rest of the page was basic information that Sana had managed to find. It wasn't a good sign that there wasn't much to see. Just his name, address, the name of his (assumed) Second, personal traits, characteristics, and so on. The next pages were profiles of other known members, including the aforementioned Second.

 

Jonas walks back into the room holding two steaming cups. He looks across at Isak before passing the coffees to Mahdi and Magnus. He's silent as he leaves again and doesn't speak until he returns with his own drink.

 

“What’s the verdict then, _Boss?”_ His large eyebrows wiggle in amusement when Isak glares at his mocking tone.

 

Isak shrugs, closing the file and haphazardly throwing it back on to the coffee table. “There is no verdict. They haven't done anything, not to us at least, so there's no need to do anything in return.” He catches himself before he adds _‘yet’,_ instead choosing to occupy his mouth with a mouthful of his cooling coffee.

 

Magnus frowns, looking from Isak to the file then back to Isak again. “So we're just going to wait for them to make the first move?”

 

Isak huffs and rolls his eyes. “We don't know whether they will make a move at all.” At the doubtful looks of his men, he stands. “Look, is it likely that they'll make contact with us? Yeah. Could their first move be a violent one? Yeah, it's possible. But we're not going to barge in first and give them an excuse to cause trouble, okay?”

 

He waits until the others concede, somewhat begrudgingly. When Jonas is the only one who doesn't agree, Isak raises his eyebrows. Jonas clears his throat, reaching for the file again. He flips to the gang leader's page before humming. "You sure it's nothing to do with the fact that Bech Næsheim is completely your type?" He makes eye contact with Isak, a smirk stretching across his face.

Isak shakes his head in disbelief. "Don't."

 

Jonas laughs and Isak is annoyed at how quickly he can recognise the mischief that hides inside his eyes.

The other man quickly shuts up when Isak says, "You mean like how his Second is your type?"

 

Containing his smugness, Isak waits until he's back in his bedroom before he celebrates getting one up on his best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I think this is fairly shoddily written (lmao) but it's been a month since I uploaded the first chapter PLUS I'm super rusty so hopefully I'll improve if you guys can just persevere. <3
> 
> Anyway, a lot of Sana in this AND a bit of backstory.
> 
> !!There is talk of sexual abuse but it's not explicit AT ALL, it is very vague and only lasts for a few paragraphs. However, I'd rather be safe than sorry so if you want to skip it, it's starts at the *** and ends a few paragraphs later at the second ***.

  
Sana arrives as Isak is in his bedroom choosing which suit to wear, just like he expected. He’s deciding between a navy blue two piece and a charcoal grey three piece when she barges un.

“Don't you know how to knock?” Isak asks without turning.

Sana walks up to stand in front of him and points at the grey suit before speaking. “Yeah, I knocked on your front door.”

“I didn't hear it.” He shrugs, acting clueless as he walks into the bathroom to change.

“No, but I told you I was coming so you knew to expect me.”

Isak leaves the bathroom, standing in front of his full-length mirror. He smooths down the lapels, turning this way and that. The suits were all tailored just for him, of course they fit perfectly, why did he even bother checking?

“The boys told me about your decision. It didn't seem like they agreed.” Now she stands behind him, making eye contact through the mirror. Her expression giving away nothing.

“No but I like to think they trust me and my decisions.” Somewhat unlike his father, Isak didn't rely on fear as a leader. He knew that if his boys really disagreed with him for a legitimate reason, they would tell him. It was important to him that they knew their opinions and expertise mattered.

This time when he speaks again he turns to face his friend. “What about you?”

She knows what he’s asking: not ‘do you trust me’ but ‘what do you think about my decision’. She knows him well enough that unspoken words were understood as well as spoken ones.

Sana pauses to collect her thoughts. “Sometimes the boys think we should go crashing in and to hell with the consequences. And sometimes I agree with them.” She sighs and looks away momentarily. “But not this time.” He can see her annoyance at having to admit she thinks he's right: it makes him grin. She scowls back but his grin doesn't drop as he watches her – _finally_ – leave his room.

As much as he teases her, the fact that Sana agreed with him – even reluctantly – reassured him even more that he was doing the right thing in waiting. Jonas might be his Second, but Sana was practically running half of the gang herself; she was the wisest and most reliable person he knew.

The Capulets, though large, were close. The majority of its members were ones whose grandparents and great-grandparents were members before them. In this business, trust means everything. One slip up, one mole, and you could be done for. If there was just one person who went to the police with inside information, the entire gang would collapse alongside the lives of its members – Isak certainly wouldn't see the light of day ever again.

So because of that, it was pretty exclusive: they generally didn't allow new members in. But then along came Sana. She had come to the Capulets when she (and Isak) were 19 years old. This was before Isak was in charge – when his father was still alive. She came because her parents had been killed by a smaller, but still pretty significant, gang. Isak still has vivid memories of her words: “I don't want revenge, I just want protection.” His father was happy enough to have the offending gang’s members’ heads on sticks just to make a point, but she was pretty persuasive. She didn't want to be involved in any more deaths. Elias, her brother, was nowhere to be found, but she had suspected that he was part of a rival gang and that the attack was revenge of sorts.

Fast forward a few months and Sana had a place in the Capulets. She'd proven herself to Isak’s father as one of the most intelligent people he'd ever met, putting the experienced men currently working for him to shame. Once she’d joined and gained the resources to do some digging, she discovered that her suspicions about her brother were right. She was angry. She was so _so_ angry. Sana wasn't a very emotional person but Isak will never forget the look in her eyes when she'd found out. She's still adamant that she wants nothing to do with Elias – she hasn't realised Isak knows that she regularly checks up on her older brother. He won't say anything, anyway.

So, Sana made herself right at home. There were some of the team that were wary. After all, she was the first ‘newbie’ in the gang for decades. Not only that but she was a young woman, and a Muslim. Needless to say, she didn’t go down overly well with a few of the men. Isak’s father didn't particularly care as long as they all got their jobs done. Though, once Isak was the leader, he couldn't help but remember those few that had made comments and they mysteriously disappeared... much to Sana’s exasperation. She really could predict his every move, even if she couldn't prove it without bodies.

However, thanks to Sana herself, she certainly wasn't the last new member. After Isak’s father died, the gang had a complete turn around. It had been somewhat old-fashioned, to put it lightly - his father certainly killed first and asked later. Isak didn't want that though, never had, even growing up. Did they still have to resort to violence? Yes. Quite often. But Isak knew he had money, knew he had a safe place, and knew he could help people. People like Sana, who needed protection. They were still a gang, they still had guns and killings and a hell of a lot of more unspeakable things, but they could help, too. It always made Sana snort – she said he was like Robin Hood, that all he needed now was the tights.

So when Sana came to him with news of a strip club about a year ago, one whose owner was exploiting – amongst other things – his female workers he gave her and the operation the go ahead. It was her first solo operation and certainly the first one she had led. Before, she had only worked behind the scenes; gathering intel, making background checks, tracking people down, the like. But Isak had faith in her and he entrusted her to take this into her own hands. Of course, the operation was a success.

  
***

  
Eva, Noora, and Vilde were just three of twenty girls working there, and now they're Sana’s best friends, alongside Chris whose uncle was the owner of the stripping joint. That took a lot of deliberating. Sana and Isak were both realists – pessimists to most people – and though they knew that it was unlikely that anybody would try something after the owner of the club had been killed, it was still understandable that they had to be cautious around someone who was literally related to the guy.

Still, Chris proved to be a good person who'd been through a lot when she was supposed to be in the care of her uncle. Besides, she didn't exactly have anyone to report back to considering Isak had her uncle dealt with.

Sana ended up reporting back to Isak with 25 girls who had been forced to work for the man. Many of them chose to go their own way – with the help of Isak’s money – but others, including Noora, Eva and Vilde, stayed with the Capulets and worked there.

  
***

  
Eva and Noora came as a package deal, being a couple and all, but that didn't stop them from disagreeing. Eva wanted to stay with the gang, whereas Noora wanted to leave and start a new life for them both, wanted to leave Norway. At one point, Isak was certain they were going to leave; he knew Eva would follow Noora to the ends of the earth, so if she decided to leave for London like she wanted to, Eva would be following her. Eventually, _somehow,_ Eva managed to convince Noora that _this_ could be there new life. Eva was a lot more trusting than Noora, when it came to accepting Isak’s help at least, and if it wasn't for her he probably wouldn't have seen her for dust. As it were, Eva struck up a close friendship with Sana, Isak, and probably most importantly, Jonas, fairly early. The security of having friends as well as protection is what Isak thinks drew her to them. Jonas especially took her under his wing: she's like a female version of him. There was one point where Isak thought something was going on between them, but when he expressed his disapproval of it to Jonas, he was laughed at for ten whole minutes. So, it was safe to say that there was nothing going on.

Isak still can't say he knows the full extent of what went on at that club, even if he can imagine it, and even if he is good friends with them now. Sana probably knows, since she's much closer to the girls, but that's okay with Isak. He doesn't have to know if they don't feel the need to tell him. He's got them each therapists and he believes that they're getting their lives back so that's all that matters.

Sana stops in the doorway before turning back to face Isak. Her voice is quiet, making Isak instinctively lean closer, concerned. “I need to talk to you about it properly though, even if I do agree with you.”

“Is everything okay?” Isak questions in what Magnus calls his ‘Bossy Business Voice’.

Nodding, Sana gives him a weak and not-at-all reassuring smile. “Yeah. Just... details. We'll talk in your office.” Then, before he can reply, she's gone.

Talking in Isak’s office usually meant that it was something she didn't want others knowing; his office was a safe space of sorts, a place that everyone knew was completely private. He'd even had it soundproofed.

With one last glance in the mirror, Isak nodded once and followed Sana into the living room where she was talking to Jonas, Mahdi and Magnus.

“Lookin’ sharp, Boss.” Magnus grins.

Isak rolls his eyes. “Thanks Mags.” He looks for the file and does a double take when he sees it in Jonas’ hands. “Stop checking out another gang’s Second and hand me the fucking file, Jonas.”

His Second huffed but did as he was asked, not even bothering to deny it.

* * *

 

The gang leader makes his way around his desk, gesturing for Sana to take a seat in front of it while he stands behind it. He doesn't particularly like talking to his friends in his office; it always feels too serious, like more of an interrogation. It makes him feel like less of a confidant and friend than he'd like to. But, if needs must.

His friend takes a seat on one of the three armchairs, the middle one, perching on the edge. It's a world away from her usual posture, which exudes confidence.

He can't help but observe her more closely as he removes his blazer and hangs it up on a sleek black coat stand next to his desk. Next is his sleeves. Tearing his eyes away from her fidgeting form, he unbuttons his cuffs before rolling both sleeves up to his elbows. She's nervous. Very. That much is obvious. Her abnormal posture. Her hands which are linked together in her lap so tightly that her knuckles are pale and protruding. Her flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead. This is serious.

In an effort to calm her, Isak smiles and calmly takes a seat. Then, he leans forward on the desk, his own clasped hands coming to rest atop of it. Though his hands are unlikely to be as clammy as Sana’s they're still warm enough to be cooled gently by the oak desk. The file on the Montagues lies just to the right of his joined hands, and he resists the urge to glance at it though his eyes seem drawn to it.

“So,” Isak gestures vaguely as if to say ‘ _here we are_ ’ then brings his hands back to their starting position. “What can I help you with?”

“I... I wasn't completely honest with you. And I withheld some information.” Her eyes jerk to the file sitting next to Isak’s hands and she frowns before looking at her hands. She lifts her eyes after a beat and Isak nods to encourage her to elaborate. “I just... I was probably being quite selfish when I agreed with your decision not to cause trouble with the Montagues.”

Isak frowns. A lot of the time he followed his instincts, his gut reaction, and the feeling in his gut right now wasn't a good one. “Selfish? How?”

Sana purses her painted black lips. “The Montagues aren't exactly a huge or established gang as you've probably figured out yourself. That's why my information on them was so limited.” She pauses, Isak nods.

He _had_ figured as much - there's no information that Sana can't find out. A lack of information doesn't usually mean that Sana can't find it, but simply that it isn't there. If this gang's so new that they haven't even began to document who its members are, it's impressive that Sana got any information at all.

“In that case,” She continues. “You could be wondering how I even got the information that we have. Or how I knew about a new gang forming in the first place.” Sana looks him dead in the eye as his face remains neutral. “It's my brother. Since... Since what happened to my family I've been making sure that I know what he's up to. You know as well as anybody that a life of crime and gangs isn't easy to get out of. I wanted to make sure that if he was going to be apart of it, at least he'd be alive. And if he wasn't, I'd know.” Isak knows she isn't finished, but he gives her a moment to collect herself.

“I know. That you've been keeping tabs on him, I mean.”

Her eyes bulge, only momentarily, in a rare show of emotion. Isak blinks, and her face is impassive again. “Oh.”

“There's more?”

Sana looks away again – off to the side this time – as if being reminded of why she came to Isak’s office in the first place. “He, er, this gang. The Montagues. He's part of it. A pretty big part by the looks of things. I was checking up on him and I found out.”

Isak sinks back into the soft leather of his chair. When he had read the file there had been no sign of an ‘Elias Boukkash’ in there; that explains what Sana meant when she said that she had withheld information. “How big of a part?”

Sana shakes her head, the crease between her brows deepening. “I can't be too sure. If I had to say, he’s probably close with the leader. Possibly like what Magnus and Mahdi are to you.”

Magnus and Mahdi mean a lot to Isak – they might not be his Second like Jonas, but they're right behind him. Seconds or not, he'd trust them with his life.

Isak nods. “Do you think he's there of his own will?” If he's not, Isak _would_ storm in, regardless of what decision he made earlier.

She shrugs, and it almost dislodges something in Isak’s chest. It kind of breaks his heart to see the most headstrong and decisive person he knows to be so uncertain. “Probably. I don't think it's the same gang that he was in at the time of, you know. Maybe these Montagues helped him get away from that one so he decided to stay with them. Maybe they're like us.”

Maybe you're projecting and hoping for the best, Isak thinks. He's seen things he could never unsee because of his lifestyle: his gang's methods are certainly unorthodox and there aren't as many “Robin Hood” gangs out there as he wishes there were. He doesn't say that though. Sana deserves at least a slither of optimism in her life, especially when it comes to her only remaining family.

He just nods. With his family all being linked with and born into a gang, he can't possibly imagine what it must be like not having your family members near you. Safe. “Most of the time when you're in this business, you have to keep your emotions in check. The job expects us to be cold and detached. To be able to kill someone then go home at night and have a peaceful nights sleep. But we're not robots. And I can't expect you to not do what's right for Elias, no matter how much you proclaim to hate him. I appreciate you telling me, really. I wouldn't want you to lose any more of your family. If you want me to keep him safe, I promise I'll protect him with my life.”

Sana’s eyes look suspiciously wet. “Thank you, Issy. I owe you one.”

Isak stands up and walks around to the other side of the desk. He knows she'll hate it, but he forces her into a hug anyway. “It's okay to care about him.”

Sana laughs once against Isak’s chest, and he rests his chin on top of her head. “I wish my brain knew that. A tiny part of me still can't help but blame him. But I love him. I love him so much, Isak.”

He rubs her back a final time then sits her back down. He glances at his pure white (still clean) shirt as he reaches for the tissues and thanks God that she decided to forgo eyeliner that morning. She thanks him as he passes her the box of Cleenex then leans back, sitting on the edge of his desk. “He probably feels guilty, too, you know. I don't think he'll ever be rid of that.”

Sana nods, dabbing at her eyes. “I know. I just, everything could've been so different, you know? Out of the two of us he was always the one who acted out, who always rebelled against our parents for seemingly no reason. Then one day, when I was 16 and he was 18, he just blurted out, in the middle of dinner, that he was gay. And, suddenly, it all made sense. He'd grown up knowing that our parents wouldn't have accepted him once they knew, so he didn't see the point in even trying to be the perfect son because he knew that once they knew, that wouldn't have mattered. There was so much shouting. At that point it was the worst day of my life. It was supposed to be one of the best days of Elias’. Afterwards, we were sitting on the swings outside and he started crying. He begged me not to hate him for being gay, that he couldn't help it. He'd always been my big brother to me but at that point he looked so small and young. I just held him and told him...” She pauses, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I told him that I could never hate him.”

Now, that. That Isak could sympathise with. Coming out to his father was not an easy affair. It was a revelation from Sana, she'd never told him that before. He'd speculated that there was a reason why Elias had turned to a gang, kids don't do it for no reason, but had never known why. He found himself feeling even more sympathy towards this young man that he had once hated.

Isak refrains from doing anything overly sappy since he knows he's already pushed it far enough by hugging her. Sana isn't as emotionally stunted as she used to be but she she'd still kill him with a look if he milks it. “We'll keep an eye on him, okay? And if you want to make contact with him, outside gang matters, let me know.”

His friend stands up to leave, tears all gone and looking as put together as ever. “Yeah, I will.”

“Sana!” He calls just as she reaches the door. When she turns back, a question on her face, Isak can't help but smile. “You don't owe me a single thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much mainly Sana and Isak but I love Sana so much so I'm not mad. Also, my thinking with the ending and how emotional Sana is in the end is that I like to imagine that because she (and every one else actually) is a lot older in this fact, I like to think that she's more comfortable with showing emotion and looking "weak".


End file.
